


In a Mirror Brightly

by medrengirl



Series: Liber Amoris, or, Stiles and the Natural Humanities [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Empathy, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, M/M, Mirrors, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Panic Attacks, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Praise Kink, bottom!Derek, safety cuffs, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4077304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medrengirl/pseuds/medrengirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles had asked Derek to try out bondage by tying him up, Derek hadn’t thought it would be a big deal. They talked about what Stiles wanted, chose a safe word, even picked out some safety cuffs together. But tying Stiles up had put Derek into a panic attack, bringing flashbacks of his own time being tied up at Kate Argent’s hands. They both agreed that BDSM wasn’t going to be happening again anytime soon.</p><p>But then, Stiles realizes that Derek doesn’t seem to mind it when Stiles pins his hands down as he’s riding him. Maybe they were assuming the wrong things about what had triggered that attack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at porn. Really not sure how I got here. Thanks to Mosca for helping me work out some issues with this!
> 
> Chapter 1 is Derek's POV for the kink negotiation (with a tiny bit of Stiles' POV for a flashback, in italics), then Chapter 2 picks up afterwards with Stiles' POV for the actual sex.

“Wow, Derek.” Stiles rolled off of Derek onto his side on the bed.

Derek sighed contentedly, running his fingers through the slight mess Stiles had left on his stomach. Stiles watched for a moment, then pressed a kiss to the ball of Derek’s shoulder. “Hold on a sec, I’ll get you a washcloth.”

Derek was rubbing the remains of Stiles’ orgasm into his skin when Stiles returned. Stiles lay back down next to Derek, watching as Derek began methodically cleaning himself. “That was fantastic. You’re always fantastic.”

“You say that every time.”

“Well, it’s true every time. I suppose I could break out the thesaurus if you wanted. Should I say you were resplendent next time? Splendiferous? Incandescent? Refulgent?”

Derek huffed a laugh. “Stop.”

“You know you like it. It just adds a touch of pink right _here_ ,” Stiles said, brushing his long fingers across Derek’s cheekbone even as Derek tossed the wet rag towards the pile of dirty clothes that were due to be washed soon anyway.

“Well, you were pretty resplendent yourself.” Derek nipped at Stiles’ fingers as they brushed over his lips.

“I was, was I?”

Derek closed his eyes, humming in agreement. He felt relaxed in a way he hadn’t in months. Stiles was home from college for the summer. He was only a few hours away at Stanford, but now Stiles was _present_ to Derek in a way he wasn’t always when he was home on weekends or between quarters.

“Derek?”

“Stiles.”

“I was wondering…” The cautious tone in Stiles’ voice caused Derek to crack one eye open and look over at him.

“Wondering what?” When Stiles didn’t answer immediately, Derek sat up a bit and leaned on one elbow to get a good look at him. “Stiles, what is it?”

“Okay, remember how over Christmas I wanted us to try the bondage thing but it didn’t go so well?”

  


_“Derek? Derek? What’s wrong?” Stiles was scrabbling, twisting, trying to figure out a way to get out of his leather cuffs—they weren’t going to be difficult, they were designed to be easily escaped, but Stiles was panicking because his boyfriend was clearly on the edge, no,_ over _the edge of a panic attack after tying_ Stiles _up._

_“Derek, I need you to breathe. Just listen to me and breathe in and out,” he said as he finally maneuvered his way out of the cuffs so that he could slide down off the bed onto the floor next to Derek._

  


Derek did remember. He remembered all too well. He breathed deep, refusing to let the panicked feeling come back.

“You said that you panicked because tying me up reminded you of what Kate did to you,” Stiles said softly.

“Yeah.” Derek’s voice was quiet.

“Was it just the tying up part that was the problem? Or was it other stuff too?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, was it just that tying me up reminded you of being tied up?”

Derek hadn’t really thought about it, so much as he had just _felt_ his way through the situation. He had flashed back to when he had first realized where he was—chained to the ceiling, battery hooked up to his body—and who was there. The guilt that had nearly overwhelmed him as she reminded him that _he_ had caused his family to die, that _his_ attraction to her was what had allowed her to kill them. The twitch in his neck she had read too clearly. The anger, the fear.

“The reason I’m asking,” Stiles said, “was because I didn’t realize it until just now, but when we were having sex, I had your hands pinned down? And it didn’t seem you had a problem with that.”

“No,” Derek admitted. “Definitely had _no_ problems with that.” If they hadn't been talking about this particular topic, he’d probably be getting interested just thinking about the sensation of Stiles’ fingers wrapped around his wrists, pinning them down as they moved together…

“So was it the cuffs?”

“I think… definitely the cuffs. But,” he hesitated, “not just them.”

“Something about how it was working? I mean, I wasn’t....” Stiles trailed off, gesturing up towards the ceiling.

“I remembered…” Derek swallowed. “It was the guilt. I was tied up and it was my fault. And then you were tied up, but it wasn’t your fault.” 

Sometimes it was surprising that Stiles could be silent, that he could know when words themselves weren’t a good idea. 

“The cuffs,” Derek finally said, “and being the one to put you in them. Probably.”

Stiles exhaled, hard. “And I asked you to do that to me. Derek, I am so sorry.”

“You couldn’t have known. I didn’t even know. It’s not like we hadn’t talked about it first. We did everything we were supposed to, it just… didn’t work.” 

“Yeah, I think ‘panic attack’ definitely counts as a sex fail, but that one was a ‘nobody’s fault’ sex fail.” Stiles flopped on his back, staring at the ceiling. Derek waited him out. “Would you be willing—no, let me back up. _Willing_ alone will not cut it anymore, not after that. Would you be interested in, by which I mean _wholeheartedly excited by_ the idea of trying something else a little kinky, that involved neither cuffs nor you being in charge? The last thing I want is for our sexy times to ever be panic attack times again.”

Derek turned to face Stiles more fully. He was fairly certain he’d be okay with trying other things, but this conversation… It was deeper than it looked, he was pretty sure. “Is this something _you_ want?”

Stiles coughed, and looked away. “I mean… kinda? I’d like to try stuff. All other things being neutral, yes, I’m a curious and adventurous guy. I mean, I hang out with werewolves and fight evil monsters, and everything I want is tame compared to that. But I also care way more about you and what makes you happy than some nebulous set of stuff I’d like to try.”

Derek was silent for a moment, watching Stiles stare at the ceiling and try not to fidget. He let a tinge of amusement color his voice. “No cuffs and you in charge. That’s still pretty vague. Lots of things could be involved in that.” 

Derek could practically feel the tension easing out of Stiles’ shoulders. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. So, we could talk about stuff? Whether or not you would be comfortable? Find something we both want to try?”

This conversation had been hard. But good, Derek thought. He’d figured some things out, and Stiles pushing was a good thing. Usually. Derek didn’t want Stiles to treat him as fragile, and he didn’t want Stiles to be quiet about what he needed either. 

“Yeah,” Derek said. “Yeah, we could talk.”

***

“What do you think about mirrors?” Stiles asked when they were five minutes into watching the next episode of _House of Cards_. Stiles called it Machiavellian political training, and scoffed when Derek pointed out that Machiavelli’s _Prince_ had been satire that went against everything else Machiavelli ever wrote.

“Mirrors?” It took a moment for Derek’s brain to switch from _TV you have to pay attention to_ all the way over to _boyfriend you have to pay attention to_.

“You know, having sex in front of a mirror. Me touching you and making you watch?” 

Oh, Derek thought. He’d been waiting for Stiles to bring up the issue again, but this was not the context he had anticipated. Kevin Spacey was not that hot. Though maybe that was the problem. “You don’t mean a mirror on the ceiling, do you? Because your dad would notice in your bedroom, and my ceiling is a little high.”

Stiles laughed. “More like big, floor length mirror? On a wall?”

Derek swallowed hard at the thought of being pushed up against the mirror with Stiles behind him, being able to watch as Stiles touched him. Stiles would lead, Derek could follow. The way they worked best together? “A mirror could be good.” He turned and captured Stiles’ mouth in a kiss. They had to start the episode over when they finished.

***

“Are you okay with dirty talk?” Stiles asked. “Or praise? You usually like me telling you how much I enjoyed things after.” They were on a run in the Preserve, both of them shirtless and sweaty—Stiles more sweaty than Derek, which delighted Derek’s nose more than he liked to admit, because of the associations with the other times they got sweaty—and Derek was fairly certain they’d be grinding up against one another when they got to the Jeep, which was waiting for them at the end of the loop they were on.

“I… yes. no. I’m not sure.” 

“What aren’t you sure about?

“Stiles,” Derek groaned. “Talking about talking? While running?”

“Dude, use your words. I know this is hard, but I’m not a mind reader.” Stiles bumped their shoulders together.

“Don’t… don’t call me sweetheart or sweetie. She called me that when she...” Derek shuddered. “When she had me in the basement. And before.” 

Stiles scowled. “If she was still alive I would take my baseball bat to her skull until there weren’t even enough brains left for zombies to want.” Derek huffed in laughter. Stiles went quiet for a few moments, not quite breathing in time with Derek as they ran, before asking, “So, is it just those words, or praise in general?”

“Nothing designed to humiliate me. I trust you not to mean to. But that’s what she was trying to do.”

“Fuck her.”

Derek grunted. “That was the problem.”

They ran in silence for another mile before they reached the Jeep. Instead of grinding hard the way Derek expected, Stiles gave him a surprisingly slow, tender kiss before climbing into the driver’s seat. When they got home, their shower ended in an even slower blowjob that left Derek gasping, curled over Stiles’ head to protect him from the spray.

***

“You know, so far I’m the only one putting out ideas. Don’t you have anything you want to try? Anything you want me to do?” They were walking out a movie theater, hand in hand after seeing the latest Avengers movie.

Derek thought for a moment, then lifted their joined hands. “I liked it when you held my wrists down. It wasn’t that I couldn’t move, but that I knew you didn’t want me to move. That you were going to make sure we both got off.”

Stiles let out a breath, and Derek could hear his heart rate kicking up in excitement. “Okay, yeah, we can do more of that. Absolutely. Anything else?”

“I like it when you make me wait. Or make yourself wait while you get me off a couple of times.”

Stiles laughed, clearly delighted. “Oh, god yes, orgasm delay or multiple orgasms. I can totally work with that.”

***

“Are you still okay with our safe word from last time? Kanima for stop?” Derek’s bedroom was already dark, but with the quarter moon shining down to give them just enough light to see. Derek was the big spoon this time.

“Yeah. That’s good.” He rubbed his nose along Stiles’ neck. “Go to sleep.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles' POV.

Stiles rubbed his hands together a bit nervously, looking at the mirror he now had propped up against the wall. It wasn’t a huge mirror, but more than big enough for what he needed right now. Once intended to sit over a dresser, the mirror was about three and a half feet tall in a solid wooden frame. The vertical sides of frame extended above the rounded top of the mirror, finishing in spindles, creating perfect handholds.

Stiles was quite proud of finding the mirror for ten bucks at a garage sale. It had been a bit dirty, but he had cleaned the wood until it was gleaming and the glass until it was shining, not a spot to be seen. He set it up so it leaned against the wall, the feet a few inches out from the wall and set against an irregularity in the concrete floor so that it was solidly propped and unlikely to move.

It had been a few weeks since Stiles had asked Derek about the panic attack. He’d been meaning to ask for months before that, but hadn’t quite had the courage to bring it up. Now he was glad he finally had, because the fantasy that he was building in his head around this mirror had a lot of potential.

Stiles thought about candles, but decided he didn’t want the smell—smoke might not be a good thing to have around when they were trying to avoid more panic attacks. But he wanted to be able to see Derek, and Derek’s loft was not exactly well lit. So he brought in a few lamps—thrift shop finds, mostly—and placed them strategically. An extension cord ran across the room now, and he wasn’t terribly pleased by that, but the lighting was finally the way he wanted it. It created a soft, warm glow in the corner of Derek’s loft.

Stiles wanted more soft. The floor was hard. Derek might have been able to take being on his knees on it for a while, but Stiles didn’t think the same was true for himself, and he didn’t want this to cause even minor pain for either of them. So he got a rug with some padding under it (he thought about a sheepskin rug, something soft and fluffy, but decided it would be too tacky and probably hard to clean, even if he liked the potential jokes about wolves and sheep) and a bunch of pillows with washable covers, and placed them on the floor in front of the mirror. He tried resting on his own knees in front of the mirror for a few minutes, found it comfy, and declared himself satisfied.

Stiles put a couple of water bottles behind the mirror for easy access. A bottle of lube and a few hand towels off to the side of the pillows. There, he was ready. Well, almost. He texted the pack, informing them that under no circumstances were they to show up at Derek’s loft unless it was a matter of life and death. He left Peter off the list, because telling him not to show up was a sure way to make sure he did.

Scott texted back immediately. _gross! xD_

__Stiles snickered._ _

Then, he texted Derek. _All set up, just waiting on you._

 

***

 

When Derek arrived, Stiles was barefoot and laying on his stomach on Derek’s bed, playing with his cell phone. He scrambled to his feet when he heard the door. “Hey!”

Derek slung his leather jacket onto the couch—just how did he manage not to sweat to death in the summer while wearing that thing, Stiles still wondered, even werewolf healing couldn’t fix dehydration—and then pulled Stiles into a kiss. When they broke it, Derek ducked his head into the crook of Stiles neck, sniffed, then pulled back. “Why do you smell like Windex and furniture polish?”

Stiles nodded his head in the direction of the corner where he had set up. “I had a bit of cleaning to do.”

Derek walked over and silently looked at what Stiles had done. “This okay?” Stiles asked, still standing by the bed.

Derek nodded. “The mirror isn’t what I pictured.”

“Mirrors the size we would need if we wanted to stand while we do this are hard to come by. And they don’t usually have frames like this.”

Stiles watched as Derek ran his fingers over the smooth edge of the thick, polished wood. It was solid, could take a bit of a beating without breaking or splintering. “Yeah, this is good.”

“Then come back here and take your clothes off.”

Derek smiled, pulling his t-shirt over his head and dropping it on the bed. Stiles grinned back, slowly unbuttoning his own shirt and enjoying watching while Derek stripped out of his socks and shoes and jeans. Stiles had only finished taking off his top layer by the time Derek was down to his black boxer briefs.

“Can I help you with that?” Derek asked, gesturing to Stiles’ t-shirt.

Stiles grinned. “Sure thing.” Derek’s hands slipped under the shirt, skating over Stiles’ sides, scratching briefly at the hair low on his belly before sliding up to Stiles’ chest. Stiles raised his arms and Derek lifted the shirt over his head. Stiles moved closer to Derek, chest to chest, and kissed him.

It was a slow, easy kiss. Languid, almost. Heads angled perfectly. Lips soft and warm. Tongues tangling, rubbing gently against one another.

Finally, Stiles disengaged, slowly, resting his forehead against Derek’s and breathing for a moment, feeling their chests lift and move together. One of Derek’s hands rested at the base of his skull, stroking through his hair, and it was turning him on more than he would have thought possible, given that they’d been together for over a year now.

He pulled back a bit. “Why don’t you get rid of these,” he said, rubbing his fingers along the edge of Derek’s underwear, “and kneel in front of the mirror, while I get rid of my pants.” Stiles backed away and started unbuttoning. Derek didn’t move for moment, just watching him, but when Stiles gave him a raised eyebrow, his mouth quirked and he did as Stiles asked.

Seeing Derek settle there in front of the mirror on his knees with his weight over his heels had Stiles’ stomach clenching in anticipation. Derek’s back and ass were works of miraculous wonder that deserved worship. Well, not just his back and ass. Everything. Even the non-body parts. Maybe especially those.

He came in behind Derek, hooking his head over Derek’s right shoulder. He was struck by Derek’s long lines when he was naked. “Oh, just look at you. Gorgeous.” Derek’s cheeks heated a bit with color, so Stiles kissed Derek’s shoulder but kept his eyes on the mirror.

“Now, I want your hands up a bit, is that okay?”

“Up?”

Stiles took Derek’s right hand in his own, and placed it at the top of the mirror in the little grip created between the spindle and the curve. “Here, does this work?” Derek nodded and moved his left hand to match. “Good boy,” Stiles said, drawing his fingers slowly across Derek’s forearm, tracing the muscles and bone as he went, down along Derek’s tricep until Stiles could stroke the hair under Derek’s arm, soft and vulnerable.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Was that a dog joke?”

Stiles huffed. “No. Well, not intentionally. It might be next time,” he said as he slid his hands down Derek’s sides, stroking from armpit to hip and back again with just enough pressure to keep it from being ticklish. Walking that border between soothing and arousing. Though, watching Derek’s face, it was probably crossing over into just being arousing. “Look at your eyes. Your pupils have gone so wide, you can’t even see the brown in them any more, just the green. So pretty.”

“Your eyes are prettier than mine.”

“Lies.” Stiles pressed a kiss to Derek’s shoulder, and bit down lightly as play punishment for the snark. “Awful, awful lies.”

Derek shook his head, and started to move one of his arms, but Stiles stopped him with a touch. “You said that you didn’t want to be unable to move, you just wanted to know that I wanted you to stay still, that I would take care of you, right?”

Derek’s eyes fluttered shut as he nodded, so Stiles moved his hand to touch Derek’s face, gently smoothing the beard on Derek’s cheek. “Hey, hey, none of that. The whole point of this mirror is you have to watch. No turning away.” Derek made a pained noise in the back of his throat, but opened his eyes, meeting Stiles’ in the mirror. “We good?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah.” Derek’s voice was rough.

“What’s your safe word?”

“Kanima.”

“Good. Now, as I was saying—I want you to keep your hands here. You’ve got to be careful, or your super-freaky werewolf strength will break the frame, and that will be no fun. But I don’t want you to move your hands. You just have to trust me to take care of you.” The point, from Stiles’ perspective, was to give Derek something to concentrate on, something he could control about himself, even as Stiles broke him apart.

Stiles turned his eyes away from Derek’s to look down at Derek’s body in the mirror and began to trace the lines of Derek’s chest with his fingers—along his collarbone, down his sternum, tracing the outer edge of of his muscle. “You know I love you, right? And not just your body. I mean, your body doesn’t hurt anything, you know I think you are hot like burning, but you are so much more than your body.”

“Stiles…” Derek sighed his name.

“Shhhh,” Stiles whispered, as his fingers circled Derek’s nipples, stroking gently. He knew the werewolf was unusually sensitive there, and the softer he touched, the more Derek would focus on it. The more it would turn him on. “Did you know that back before they invented glass mirrors in the nineteenth century, most mirrors weren’t thought to show the image of the person looking in them? At least not very well? Because they were made out of polished metal or stone, they had all these distortions.” Derek’s nipples had peaked under his fingers, but Stiles kept rubbing softly, occasionally running the edge of his fingernail over one, playing with them. “Sometimes the imperfections in the mirrors added things that weren’t really there, or hid the blemishes and imperfections that were in the person.”

“What are you talking about?” Derek groaned, shifting his body subtly from side to side, as if trying to follow Stiles’ fingers as they slipped over his pectorals.

“I’m just saying, there were two things people saw in those old mirrors. They saw something worse than what was actually there, or they saw something better than what was actually there.” Stiles liked the sounds that were coming from Derek’s mouth. They hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet, and Derek was already making little needy sounds that had Stiles delighted.

Stiles pressed another kiss to Derek’s neck, this time with a hint of teeth to scrape against Derek’s tendon, then spoke again. “And I think that sometimes, when you look at yourself in the mirror, you see something worse than what is there, or you think that someone else would see something better than what is real. You don’t think they would actually see you.” He snaked one arm around Derek’s ribcage, and stroked his other hand down Derek’s abdomen to where his cock was jutting up. He took it in his hand, slicking the bit of pre-come over the head poking up through foreskin, then cupped Derek’s balls softly. “But I’m looking at you now, and I just see _you_. Flaws and perfection all mixed together.”

Derek was breathing fast now, staring at the image of the two of them in the mirror, eyes focused on Stiles’ hand. “This is not what I thought you had in mind when you said you wanted to try dirty talk.”

Stiles laughed. “But it’s turning you on, isn’t it? I can see you flush. It’s half way down your chest now.” Stiles traced the line of red, even as it spread.

Then he reached over to the lube and got some in his hand. “Now I need you to make a choice,” Stiles said as he slicked the lube over Derek’s cock.

“What? What kind of choice?” Derek’s voice sounded lost, almost broken to Stiles’ ears.

“Remember how you told me you either wanted me to make you wait, or make you come multiple times while I waited? I want you to choose which one you want today. Because,” Stiles said, “I think you like this enough that we’ll probably doing this again, yes?”

“Please, Stiles,” Derek whimpered, hands tightening on the edge of the mirror, watching as one of Stiles’ hands continued to play with a nipple, twisting just a little bit harder, while his other stroked his cock firmly.

“I’ll take care of you. But you need to tell me what you want. Do you want to come now, knowing that I’m going to make you come all over again in just a little while, or do you want me to make you wait? Build the anticipation until you’re shaking with it?”

“I can’t choose. You choose. Ahh—” Derek’s hips bucked up against Stiles’ hand as Stiles put a twist on the end of a stroke.

“I think…” Stiles could only stare at the picture they made in the mirror as he continued stroking, watching Derek’s cock flush an even deeper red as Derek thrust into his hand. He nuzzled Derek’s neck over the jugular, kissed the point of his jaw, the scruff of his beard, then whispered, “Come for me. And then, you’ll come for me again.”

Derek came with a cry, back curving, eyes fluttering shut for the first time since Stiles had told him to keep them open. Stiles moved from stroking Derek’s cock to stroking his belly, slower now, murmuring in Derek’s ear. “Beautiful. I love watching you come, and like this? In the mirror? It's even better. I can see all of you.”

Stiles waited until Derek had come down a bit from the high of his orgasm, and then he scooted back a bit from where he had been plastered up against Derek. “Open your eyes for me, please?”

Derek sighed at the loss of contact, but he opened his eyes, meeting Stiles’ gaze in the mirror and gave a small smile. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. That was fantastic. Splendiferous, even.” Derek dropped his chin nearly to his chest as he laughed. Stiles climbed around Derek and grabbed one of the bottles of water from behind the mirror. “Do you want any?”  
Derek nodded, but Stiles stopped his hand when he went to reach for it, and just lifted the bottle to Derek’s lips. Slowly, carefully, he helped Derek drink. He liked watching Derek’s neck, the bob of his adam’s apple when he swallowed. It was strangely intimate, Stiles thought, helping someone drink. When Derek pulled back from the water, Stiles took a long drink of his own, then put the bottle aside, and then turned back to Derek.

Stiles stroked a hand down Derek’s back and leaned in for a kiss. The angle wasn’t the best because of where Derek’s arms were, but it somehow still seemed just right. When they pulled apart, Stiles was breathless. “Your knees okay? I can get you more pillows.”

Derek shook his head. “No, I’m good.”

“Good.” Stiles leaned in for another kiss. “I want you to keep your eyes on that mirror, and hands where they are, okay? I want you to watch your face as I take you apart.” Stiles could hear a slight hitch in Derek’s breath. But Derek didn’t look at the mirror just yet, instead meeting Stiles’ eyes directly.

“You’re not the only one who can see clearly, here.” Derek’s voice was soft.

Stiles smiled. “Good.” Then, grinning, “I want our power dynamics pretty equal, even if I like this kinky dom sub stuff. Now, eyes front!” Derek rolled his eyes, but looked back at the mirror. Stiles shucked his boxers and then knelt back behind Derek. He was so hard, rock hard, but this… this was about Derek. Just a little while longer to put it off.

“Is that what this is? Kinky dom sub stuff?” Derek asked.

Stiles paused. “I think so? Even if it’s not, I,” he pressed a kiss to the top of Derek’s tattoo, “like having my way with you. I,” he pressed a kiss to another curl of the triskele, “like taking care of you. And you,” he pressed a kiss to the third curl, “are as sexy as all get out when I have you spread out for me. If you like it, I want more of it.”

“Yeah,” Derek said softly. “I like it. I want more.”

Stiles tugged Derek’s hips back a bit, pushing his knees apart and moving Derek’s torso more forward and off balance, leaning more into the mirror. “This okay?”

“Yes,” Derek bit out, the muscles bunching in his arms as he readjusted his grip on the frame of the mirror a bit.

Stiles leaned up close enough that Derek could feel him against him, then stroked his hands over Derek’s hips. “You know, I really like your legs. And where your legs meet your back. This whole area.”

Derek choked on his laughter even as he tried again to grind back against Stiles, not quite able to get the leverage because of trying to hold on to the mirror without moving it. “Did you just quote _Firefly_ to me? During sex? Again?” Stiles had introduced Derek to _Firefly_ not long after they had started dating, originally intending to make him sit down and marathon it in a single Saturday a few weeks before Stiles left for Stanford. It ended up taking them several days, because every few episodes they would get distracted by each other. Stiles still occasionally used “I’ll be in my bunk,” when Derek said something during one of their Skype sessions that turned him on.

“What? It fit. Still fits. Zoe’s a badass. With a good ass? Whatever, the point is—” Stiles spread Derek’s cheeks and stroked a knuckle gently along his crack, all the way down to his balls, pulling a moan from Derek, “—really, how could I not like this part of you? You make such fantastic noises when I touch you here.” Stiles didn’t have enough lube on his fingers anymore, so he didn’t try and press in, just circled, rubbing his thumb gently against the furled rim of Derek’s hole. “Are you sensitive right now, Derek? Are you starting to get hard again, thinking about what I’m going to do to you again?”

Derek shuddered under his touch. “Yes. God, Stiles.”

“Do you want more? Do you want my fingers in you?” Stiles let his thumb press just a touch more firmly. “Tell me if you do.”

“Please,” Derek whispered, lifted his eyes from the mirror to meet Stiles’.

“Keep your eyes on you, Derek, and I’ll give you what you want. I want to watch you watch yourself while I do this.” Derek shuddered again at the instruction, but did as he was told. Stiles grabbed the lube, drizzling some over his fingers, then more over Derek’s hole, which clenched under Stiles’ gaze.

“This is one of those body parts that shouldn’t be pretty, but is,” Stiles mused as he rubbed. “Maybe it’s because I know what it will look like when it’s stretched out around me, or how you feel on the inside, but right now? it’s just… potential.” Stiles slipped in a finger, pulling a moan from Derek. “You’re so warm inside, so soft. So _tight_.” Stiles used his other hand to rub Derek’s back. “Come on, relax for me Derek, I’m going to make you feel so good.”

It worked. As Stiles stroked him, inside and out, he could feel Derek starting to loosen. “That’s it, so good for me,” he crooned, as he slipped in a second finger. “How does that feel? Does it feel good?”

Derek groaned. “Yes, so good.” Stiles could see Derek’s muscles starting to shake. It was psychological, not physical, Stiles knew, because werewolf strength and stamina meant that Derek could hold himself like this, stretched between Stiles and the mirror, for ages.

Stiles pressed, finding Derek’s prostate with unerring accuracy. “Oh, oh…” Derek gasped. Stiles looked at Derek in the mirror. His face was flushed, mouth open, eyes half-lidded even though he was doing what Stiles had told him, watching his own face, his own body. Derek’s cock was hard again, rising up against his stomach. “Please, Stiles. Please.”

“What do you want, Derek?” Stiles pressed another finger inside, feeling Derek stretch around his fingers. Stiles was starting to feel a little desperate himself, the blood pounding in his cock, needing to bury himself in the tight heat currently surrounding his fingers. “Do you want something besides my fingers? You’re nearly ready for it.”

Derek nodded, moaning as Stiles stroked along his prostate again. Stiles decided it was time to stop teasing, stop teasing _both_ of them. He removed his fingers from Derek—who moaned again, trying to wriggle backwards, which was simply adorable, and Stiles really needed to get inside him properly. “Just a sec, just a sec, need more lube, need more lube,” Stiles chanted.

It took only a moment to slick himself up, line up, remind Derek to relax, and sink in. “Okay, just open back up for me, that’s right, oh, god, Derek, you feel, oh god, so good.” Stiles knew he was babbling now, but he really didn’t care. Derek knew about his babbling, he didn’t mind, and oh, wow. “Derek,” Stiles whined as he pressed in deep, until his balls brushed Derek’s ass, crowding Derek forward until Derek had enough leverage against the mirror again to thrust back against him. “Derek,” he tried again, “is this what you wanted?”

Derek’s breaths were coming out as gasps now every time Stiles thrust forward. “Yes. More, need more.”

Stiles was not one to refuse that kind of request. He thrust harder, a little faster, trying to make sure every movement dragged along Derek’s prostate. He wasn’t sure he was succeeding until he looked in the mirror and saw Derek’s face. Derek wasn’t watching Stiles, he was doing what Stiles had told him, looking at himself. And Derek was bright, and beautiful. “I see you,” Stiles groaned, “I see you.”

Derek came. Hard. It seemed like it took forever from Stiles’ point of view—in the best possible way—Derek’s hole clenching hard around his cock. Finally, Derek finished, sagging against the mirror, and it took only a few thrusts more for Stiles to come as well, nearly collapsing onto Derek’s back.

“Holy smokes, Batman, that was fantastic,” Stiles muttered into Derek’s skin a few moments later.

Derek’s shoulders shook with his laughter. “You really do say the same things every time. What happened to the promise of a thesaurus?”

“Shut up. It’s not my fault you shut my brain down.” Stiles slowly pulled out. “You can let go of the mirror now.” He grabbed one of the towels and wiped up some of the mess they had made, then looked over his shoulder. “Oh, god, why did I put the mirror so far from the bed? There are pillows here, we can sleep here, right?”

Derek snickered. “You can sleep here if you want, but I want a mattress,” he said as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Traitor,” Stiles muttered, even as he took Derek’s offered hand and pulled himself up.

“You’ll thank me in the morning.”

It took them only a few moments to turn out the lights and make their way to the bed. Stiles prodded Derek until he turned on his side so that Stiles could be the big spoon this time. “So... that was good?” he asked when they were settled.

“No, coming twice was really unpleasant and I never want to have sex with you again.”

Stiles pinched Derek’s side. “Jerk!”

Derek grabbed Stiles’ hand and pulled it around his chest. “Seriously, Stiles, that was good. Amazing, even.”

“Yeah? The mirror thing did it for you?”

“The mirror was even better than I expected,” Derek admitted. “But if you make me stare at myself every time you get me off, I’m not going to be able to look in a mirror without getting hard. Not sure that’s really what you’re going for.”

Stiles laughed, brightly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  
  


_Fin._


End file.
